Still
by BeforeTheStorm15
Summary: "Crushingly, Lydia kissed him with all the despair of a dying woman as salty tears poured down her cheeks and mixed with his. The kiss deepened as it finally clicked in his mind. Lydia was alive..." My interpretation of Stiles and Lydia's kiss from the mid-season trailer. Rated M for content.


_**Summary: My take on the Stydia kiss. **_

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_Two feet standing on a principle_  
_ Two hands longing for each others warmth_  
_ Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats_  
_ Darkness falling, leaves nowhere to go _

**_- 'Still' by Daughter._**

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Stiles just couldn't take it any longer.

His heart was pounding louder and louder until he felt the need to physically clutch his chest in an attempt to hold the broken pieces together. The pain was indescribable. It tore at his mental state in violent flashbacks. Clawing; stripping; making him vulnerable.

How the hell had this happened so fast?

He was meant to protect the people he loved. And once again, Stiles had failed. He'd watched as his father's feet were pulled out from under his body whilst his own son watched, an invisible force gripping the older man with a tight grasp. The last thing he saw was his father's face. Emotion painted onto his face in streaks of blood and fear. Stiles had screamed and cried until his throat ached but he knew there was no action that would save his father.

He was gone.

Dead.

'_We'll trap the Darach in the school. Tonight.'_ Scott had begged the others. And Stiles had agreed. It had been time to take a stand and fight this new evil once and for all before it threatened another life in town. For once, everyone was in agreement and battle-ready; Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Allison…and Lydia.

Where _was_ the girl whom Stiles had loved since before even he could remember?

The striking red head had stood her ground when the others vowed for her to stay behind. Allison had been teaching her a few tricks with knives and crossbows and eventually everyone cracked. This was Lydia's town too. She had every right to fight for it and no one could talk her out of it. Not even Stiles, who had begged her to stay behind and stay safe.

_"If anything happens to you…"_

_"What?"_ Lydia had snapped coldly. But then her eyes softened. _"What will you do, Stiles?"_

He couldn't reply. How could he?

After all, if something happened to Lydia then Stiles himself couldn't be sure of what he'd do. Avenge her, perhaps? Or simply give up on everything and succumb to the darkness that already enveloped his world? He didn't want to find out so instead he pulled her into a quick hug before they left.

But now she was gone too.

She'd been taken trying to save his father. He remembered hearing her war cry not minutes ago as she swung at the Darach with one of Allison's new long swords. And then, before Stiles could remove himself from the broken glass from which he'd been thrown into, Lydia was gone. Disappeared into the shadows along with his father. All that remained was the now-bloodied knife that Lydia had been clutching and the scent of fear. Stiles crawled across the floor, achingly slow; his body limp with the weight of loss and regret. He couldn't see or hear anything that was going on outside the room. It was as if his senses had given up after everything that he had seen and heard this night.

"Stiles!"

The cry was so loud and so clear it almost seemed real. It almost seemed worth fighting again. But of course it wasn't real; it was the simply the voice of a dead girl. Numbly, Stiles leaned his back wearily against the wall of the classroom and let his eyes close in a more permanent state of defeat.

"Stiles?!"

There it was again. That cry. It sounded exactly her. The same sharp, intelligence voice that held so many secrets and thoughts. The same voice that belonged to the ghost girl. But it couldn't be. Lydia was dead, like everyone else whom Stiles had ever cared for and loved.

Delicate hands flickered across his sweat-soaked skin and the fingertips that brushed and caressed his cheeks felt so real, he gave a small, desperate cry. His trembling hands reached across and…slowly linked together with the other small, shaking hand. _Why did it feel so real?_ Surely he was dead by now. Maybe the Darach had finished him off after all, or Scott had put his best friend out of his own misery. Was this was heaven felt like? Was he simply imaging the touch he craved now that he was beyond the grave? Either way, Stiles appreciated the touch.

"Stiles, can you hear me?" The voice belonged to a scared female; soft, alone. "I'm right here, please…please, Stiles!" A sob escaped. "You can't be dead…you can't be! Please don't leave me…"

Was she really alive?

Better yet, was she really here, with him?

The hands cupping his face became warmer and as he allowed the pleading voice to guide him, his eyes fluttered open once again. The girl before his eyes was like a wild angel torn from the heavens. Her hair was a mess of wiry twists and knacks and her face was smudged with dust and dirty. Her eyes were wild and wilful. But it was the faint hint of a hopeful smile on her lips that took his breath.

"Lydia…" He murmured softly. "You can't be real, you're dead. I saw you…get taken…you left me. You left me, Lydia…"

"No!" Lydia cried in anguish. She cradled his head in her hands. "I'm right here, Stiles."

Suddenly, a pair of soft lips crashed into his.

Crushingly, Lydia kissed him with all the despair of a dying woman as salty tears poured down her cheeks and mixed with his. The kiss deepened as it finally clicked in his mind. _Lydia is alive_. His hands, still shaking, began to explore her quivering jaw, her face, and her tangled hair. The kiss lasted for what seemed like minutes as they clung to each other in hope, fear and…love. Whether that love was born from blood and tears they didn't know, but Stiles and Lydia needed each other.

And for one moment, that was all that matter.

"You…came back…for me?"

Lydia lowered her lips down to his again and gently pressed them against the boy's cheek.

The boy who loved and worshipped her for years. The boy who had saved and protected her countless times over. The boy she had grown to need more than anything, and anyone else.

_The boy she knew she would love one day._

"We'll get through this, Stiles." She said. Because that was all she could say to the boy who used to give her hope. "You and I are going to get through this." She repeated. Lydia leaned in closer and whispered;

"_It's my turn to save you now."_

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**I _might_ turn it into a multi-chapter if anyone is interested...?**


End file.
